


Hunger

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, Artist Steve Rogers, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Horny Steve, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Peggy Carter - Freeform, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Steve Angst, Steve Feels, Steve Has Issues, Steve Needs a Hug, Super Soldier Serum, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:39:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Afan1228 for the title!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Afan1228 for the title!

Steve was drawing, sitting at the edge of the cot in his little tent setup. Bucky was sprawled out behind him, smoking a cigarette. "What are you drawing?"

"Nothin'," Steve sighed, lips quirking just a little.

"Make sure you get my good side."

"I wasn't aware you had one."

"All my sides are pretty great." Bucky agreed, and Steve made a show of rolling his eyes, trying to shrug Bucky off of him when he felt his breath on his neck, the strong smell of smoke, and nicotine.

"You should quit that nasty habit." Steve said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "Just 'cause my asthma's gone don't mean you should start smoking again."

"I know," Bucky mumbled.

"They're not doing you anything but harm, Buck."

"It keeps me calm, Steve. It relaxes me."

"For a little while, maybe-"

"I'm not gonna argue with you. You don't know what it was like. Now, ease up, pal."

Steve fell silent, giving up. Bucky was right, and he couldn't argue with that. He sighed, looking at the drawing in his hands. Bucky. Should've been Peggy. She should be the reason heat curls in his stomach, the reason his blood boils, and his heart races. But she's not. Steve likes her, might even want to try something more. She could be the one he could do it for. Finally abandon this... Queer lifestyle he loved so much. But the way he felt about Peggy, it wasn't the same. She was a lovely gal, a nice friend, but it lacked the emotional connection, and physical attraction Steve had with Bucky. Still, she was a strong woman. Admirable, for sure. A bit of a jealous tendency, and clearly way too much trouble, but maybe he could do it. Maybe he could even fall in love with her.

The thought of being intimate with her, though. It was foreign. Every cell in his body protested it. He'd kissed a girl before. Sure, he was hesitant at first - when he noticed her making a pass at him - but when he remembered Bucky's words, he let it happen, encouraged it, even. It had been something he'd always wanted to try. An experiment. For the record, it wasn't that bad. A kiss is a kiss, he supposed, and he can close his eyes and pretend, but it still felt strange. Wrong, somehow. Her lips too soft, her waist too slim, too dainty under his hands, her perfume too sweet, too feminine. Peggy had been awful sore about it, Bucky had been proud, even if his eyes seemed a little tight at the corners when he'd laughed about it.

But still, he should try. Bucky said he should keep trying. They can't afford to be exclusive.

But in the back of Steve's mind, he hoped it wouldn't work out, because he knows as soon as he's going steady with a girl, he'll lose everything he has with Bucky.

"Shit. Are you mad at me?"

Steve let his thoughts drift back to Bucky, who had leaned against his back, his chin propped on Steve's shoulder.

"You give the silent treatment more often than any dame I ever met."

"You deserve it." Steve tucked his pencil behind his ear.

Bucky's left arm crept around Steve's waist, "Don't be mad at me, beautiful." He whispered, taking the pencil, and pressing his mouth behind Steve's ear, "I'm sorry."

"You pretend to be tough, but you're actually pretty soft. You know that?"

Bucky shoved him over, "Fuck you."

Steve laughed, and turned his head to ask for a kiss. Bucky moved just an inch out of his reach, and kept that inch between them, no matter how Steve shifted, taunting him with the space.

"You're mean." Bucky stated.

"You're a tease." Steve grumbled.

"You deserve it." Bucky flicks a bit of ash onto the ground, bringing his cocky smirk deliciously close to Steve's mouth, the puff of smoke that curls from his lips, obscene.

"Maybe I'll have to do something about that." Steve turns, the bed springs creaking loudly beneath his weight.

"Maybe I'd like that." Bucky smothered the end of his cigarette in the heel of his boot, and flicked it onto the dirt floor.

"Keep your pants on, Barnes."

"Take yours off, Rogers."

"Grow up." Steve rolled his eyes.

"Make me." Bucky smirked.

Steve shrugged him off his back, but Bucky dragged Steve down with him, arms braced around his chest. Steve rolled over on top of him, "I'll make you, alright." He whispered, bringing his lips close, just barely letting them brush. He lingered until he heard Bucky's breath catch in his throat, and let his fingers dig into Bucky's ribs, making him squeal in surprise, jerking his arms down to prevent Steve from tickling him.

"No, Steve, no. Shit. No tickling." He squirmed, trying to hold his composure as he squirmed to get away, pushing Steve's hands back, but he was so strong now. His sides ached, and he bats at Steve's hands, curling up, and squirming away, hooking legs around Steve's waist, and forcefully pushing him over, rolling them, together, off the edge of the cot, onto the ground, panting, in a tangle of limbs.

Bucky rested his head on Steve's stomach, catching his breath. "I miss this." He huffed, "I miss you."

"Yeah," Steve sighed, because he understood. He knows how it feels to miss someone who can be right beside you. "I miss you, too."

Bucky pushed himself up, walking around the cot to pluck Steve's sketchbook from the dirt - the same one he'd bought Steve last year. He had a habit of filling them very quickly. The page it was open to was a few rough sketches of him, almost finished, two angles: a profile of him, eyes closed, fingers holding a cigarette that was tucked between his lips, and the second, eyes half lidded, but intense, the curl of smoke from his lips somehow erotic. With the detail of the eyes, the lips, the angles of his jaw, the special attention given to his fingers, it wasn't hard to see inside Steve's mind.

"Don't hate my smokin' so much after all, do you, Stevie?" he smirked at Steve.

Steve plucked the book from his hand, trying to give him a stern frown, but it was softened with a blush, "No amount of sex appeal is worth losing a friend over."

"For someone who's the most righteous being on the planet or something, you sure have sex on the brain a lot."

He shrugged, spare time is my enemy... And... He looked at the drawing once more before letting the book fall closed, "You're my weakness." Steve sat at his desk.

"I like the sound of that," Bucky smiled, perching on the edge of the cot, toying with the pencil he found on the mattress.

Placing his book on the table before him, he dug his compass out of his pocket, and set it, open, on top. A small picture of Peggy was nestled inside, looking as lovely as the first day Steve saw her. Then, at Bucky: hair mussed, face scruffy, the small cut on his cheek nearly healed. He was half dressed in cargo pants and a white shirt that clung too tight to his chest. He'd clearly seen better days, but he was every inch perfect to Steve.

"I still have to try, Buck."

"I know." Bucky joined him, placing the pencil on the desk, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "I'm proud of you. You know that?" Bucky lowered himself to Steve's eye level, like so many times before, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a friendly squeeze, "You're doing the right thing." He kissed his cheek, "I know it's not easy for you."

Steve chuckled, tilting his head to give Bucky access to his neck, and Bucky straightened to resist the temptation, "Why do the wrong things feel so right, and the right things feel so wrong?"

Bucky didn't answer. Moving behind Steve, resting his chin on top of his head, and his arms rest on his broad shoulders. "Your hair smells nice." He murmured, deftly avoiding the question, "Did your shower feel as heavenly as mine?" His hand played in Steve's hair while he looked at that little picture of Peggy he carried around to keep everyone off their scent. "We're putting a shower in the moment we can afford it," Bucky announced, "You're too big for our little tub now, anyway." Steve frowned, and clicked the compass shut, reaching up to cup his hand behind Bucky's neck, and drag him close. Hands slid down his chest, and Bucky's cheek was against his, "I'll have you shower with me," Bucky whispered, "Since we can't take a bath together anymore."

"So tempting." Bucky's lips touched his neck, and he wondered if anyone else could ever make him feel this way. He doesn't think so. "I don't think I can stop." Steve whispered, "I can't just give you up. You're all I got."

Bucky moved in front of him, clapping him lightly on the shoulder, "You shouldn't have to." His lips quirk into a sad smile.

Steve reached up, dragging a thumb across Bucky's husky jaw, and when he looked away, it looked like it caused him pain. Bucky sat in his lap, "Watching you fight it is so hard." He cups Steve's face, "I'm with you, Steve - you know that. I'm not gonna leave, and I-" he turns his face away, giving himself a moment to collect himself, "I want you for myself. I still do, after all this time. Did you know that?"

Steve's forehead dropped against Bucky's shoulder, and he let his hands grip Bucky's waist, "Sometimes, I miss being small." He whispered, instead of answering, "I'll miss it more when we get home."

"I miss it too, Steve." Bucky kissed his cheek, but I am getting used to the new you." He let his hand squeeze Steve's bicep, biting his lips to keep his gleeful smile to a minimum, "There are benefits to you being all muscly."

Steve exhaled a laugh, "Thank you?"

"Can I see?" Bucky whispers, tugging at his shirt, "Officially? While we have a little privacy?"

Steve sat back in his seat, looking at Bucky warily, but unbuttoning his shirt.

"You spoil me too much," Bucky murmured, "Hear anyone?"

"Nah," Steve whispered, and let out a slow exhale as Bucky started opening buttons. With Bucky in his arms, Steve moved to the floor, tucked behind the cot, an angle not seen from the door, though Steve knew he'd hear someone approach long before then.

Lying together, Steve pressed his body closer to Bucky's, remembering distantly how normal this used to be for them. To be huudled together like this when they were back in Brooklyn. Just to feel the heat of his body. Looking back, he can see how he took the time for granted, the privacy, the freedom. Compared to now, when they're scrambling for a few minutes, a few kisses - sipping when they wanted to drink deeply. It was never enough to satisfy his thirst, but it got him through.

Bucky's hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and rucked up his undershirt, letting his hands touch the skin there. Steve watched the longing pass over his face without comment. "How long did it take?" He whispered, and Steve knew what he meant, it could only be one thing.

"A few minutes," Steve nosed into Bucky's hair, and Bucky pinched a rosy nipple.

"Damn."

Distantly, Bucky still thought about Steve's little body when he looked at Steve now. Tried to wrap his mind around how he'd become so big. Secretly, he was a little upset that he wouldn't change back into his smaller self after the war was over, just maybe not the asthma. "Everyone looks at you now," Bucky whispered, "Big strong Captain America. But I remember who you were before all that. You'll always be skinny, little Steve Rogers to me. Always." He tucked his face against Steve's shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"I just... If someone can't love you when you look your worst, they don't deserve to when you look your best." Bucky pressed his palm to Steve's ribs, remembering how he used to be able to count them, "No magical serum made you a hero, Steve. It only made people see you for what you already were - what you've always been to me."

"So, you're saying..." He paused when Bucky kissed the dip of his throat, "You love me more than anyone."

Bucky looked up, touched a finger to the tip of Steve's nose, "You said it, sweetheart."

The endearment startled a smile out of Steve, and Bucky kissed it, lingering long after it had faded from his lips. Bucky's hips were dragged to Steve's so they could be close, but his hands would still be free to roam over his chest.

Bucky broke away from Steve's lips, and moves down, tasting the skin at his neck, where it was sensitive, and exposed for him, then over the bunched shirt. Steve's skin is warmer than his, and if he didn't know better, Bucky would've thought him feverish, but the temperature is normal now. Steve doesn't get cold. He wedged a thigh between Steve's, and fit himself against his chest.

"Take your shirt off for me?" Steve asked before Bucky could get too comfortable. Bucky shifts back, and pulled his undershirt off, and Steve does the same. Bucky rests against him again, comfortable, and warm. This was more than enough, Bucky thought: laying with Steve, looking at him, touching him. More then he's had in a long time. The chaste proximity that they used to share. Bucky had missed that.

Resting still, Bucky can press lazy kisses to Steve's shoulder, and chest, find new lines of muscle he missed last time, muscles that appeared only when he twisted a certain way. Steve's arms are around him, big, and strong, and Bucky let his hand slide over the skin, explore his new body for the first time. The line of his waist, dipping down from his broad shoulders, his belly, which was flat, and pressed against his own, much like his chest. Bucky found himself smiling as he focused on the feeling. The way Steve's skin felt under his, relaxed and soft where the muscles weren't tense, and firm where they were, and Bucky liked the feeling. He shifted to see down the curve of his spine, and let his hand touch the skin there. Not a scar, or a bruise, or anything on him, all fresh and new, and Bucky had to memorize him all over again.

At least, Bucky thought, Steve could look at himself, and not be reminded of his abusive father. At least those marks had disappeared along with the asthma. Finally, Steve had a body proportionate to the size of his loving, generous heart.

And to his damn track record for getting himself into trouble.

Steve's hand was a firm pressure on his back, a constant, soothing rhythm, as it rubbed along the length of his spine, and his breath was warm in Bucky's hair.

As Bucky's hands trail lower on his body, thumbs fitting in his hipbones, or hands squeezing and massaging his firm ass, Steve pulled Bucky tighter to his body, needing to feel him. He's not used to how badly he needed to be close to him. Only now, instead of scrambling for warmth, he was scrambling for proximity, but he still needed Bucky like he needed breath. That, at least, hadn't changed. Every inch of skin Bucky touched made Steve want him more and more, and he hated the demands of this new body, how he couldn't just be content with the little touches anymore, how he was filled with unspent energy that pulsed through him now, and made him want to press closer, grind into him, satisfy the need that seemed insatiable inside him. The proverbial itch he couldn't scratch. He just wanted something to quench the fire.

It was moments like this when he missed his little body the most. Because he would have needed to pull away, needed to get a breath of fresh air, and Bucky would have made him slow down, settle, but he doesn't now, because Steve is fine. Except nothing is fine because everything is Bucky, and he can't afford that. They'd tested fate, cheated it, sometimes, and they needed to be more careful. They don't need Steve to ruin everything because he can't control his own urges. It's the most cruel form of torture, self control, and Steve's was weak.

He let his hips press forward, against Bucky's thigh, and the relief that ensued gave him life, and he wanted more. Bucky's drew in a sharp breath, and his hands hesitate in their journey over Steve's skin. He hadn't meant to do that.

Bucky was still soft against his own thigh, and Steve envied his control, hated the way he had so little control over his new body, how he was starving for Bucky, who was right here, how this wasn't enough, how the pent up energy made him so demanding of Bucky. He didn't want to be like that. Make Bucky feel like he constantly needed to give of himself to satisfy Steve. Sacrificing himself on a regular basis to appease the monster that was Steve. Constantly wanting to feel, and take, and fuck. Needing it. He doesn't want to feel that way at all, and it kills him that he can't have his simple desires back. Little kisses, holding hands, Bucky's smile.

Bucky looked up at Steve, smirking, ready to tease, but stopping when he saw his expression, always attuned to him. Bucky shifted back, reaching between their bodies, and cupping him through his pants, waiting for his permission before he continued. He can only wonder what it must be like, only wonder how Steve must feel, because, even with as open as they've tried to be with each other, Bucky couldn't fully understand the serum. Couldn't comprehend never getting tired, never being able to sleep, never having enough, always needing more, burning through calories faster than he could eat, being stir crazy, and anxious. Couldn't understand how he hadn't gone insane yet. And on top of all this, having each feeling magnified. He had tried to understand. Really, he's been trying, he just needed more time.

Bucky pulled Steve up into a sitting position, and kissed him, "It's okay," he whispered, "I got you." He lowered himself, resting his head in Steve's lap, bringing his lips close enough to press to the bulge in his trousers.

"Oh, Geez, Buck." Steve choked out, his fingers curling in Bucky's hair, head falling back, dragging him a little closer, almost unknowingly. Bucky rested a hand flat on his stomach, and Steve reached for it, his palm against the back of Bucky's hand, fingers slotted together, pressing to his stomach, a calm steady presence, keeping him grounded. "You don't gotta...." He tried to say, he knows he needs it, so does Bucky, but it wasn't fair, how selfish his needs were.

His energy was suppressed in tense shoulders, the fingers of his free hand digging into his own thigh, and he could feel the small sting of pain as he pressed bruises into his skin. At least it was him, and not Bucky. The bruises would heal in minutes, too small to even matter, but at least Bucky was okay.

"Okay?" Bucky whispered, looking up at him, and Steve could only manage a nod, speechless, and weak with need, and Bucky leaned back in, and his mouth felt so good. Steve fought the reflex to jut his hips forward, to push into the heat of Bucky's mouth, to take, instead, let himself relax, receiving as Bucky willingly gave, though his body struggled to stay still.

Outside the tent, the world was quiet, Steve could hear it, he could hear everything. All the time. He could feel the air pass over his skin, breathe in the emotion coming off Bucky like it was his own. He felt himself relax, the ounce of energy it took to heal the bruises on this thigh an ounce of energy off his chest. A small taste of relief, and it was sweet.

He let his hips rock, just a little, enough to ease the tension in Bucky's neck without making him feel like Steve was forcing him. He could barely help himself. The heat was enough to make him mad, and Bucky's mouth was slick, and tight, and welcoming, and he pressed forward, taking him deeper, and a shiver rippled through him, and he let his fingers, just for a moment, caress Bucky's soft, dark hair, and he pulled back, taking a moment to breathe, to rest his neck, and Steve's forearm served as the perfect pillow.

Steve cradled him there, leaning down to kiss his face, wherever he could reach, and Bucky leaned up to reach his lips.

Steve wished he could kiss Bucky forever. Never stopping for anything. Just to feel the touch of his sweet lips, to taste the essence of honey, and cheap alcohol that always seemed to linger on his tongue, his brerath is heavy with smoke, and his mouth is spicy with nicotine. Steve takes himself in hand, and guides Bucky into a sitting position, pulling him into his lap. He can finish this himself. He needs to kiss him.

Settled on Steve's thighs, Bucky opens his fatigues, letting his fingers tease lazily through his boxers as he leaned in for another kiss. A brief kiss to his lips, a soft press to his brow, his forehead, and Bucky rested his head on Steve's shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent while he caught his breath, muskier than it would have been in Brooklyn, but still distinctly Steve.

Steve brought Bucky's hips close, kissed his ear, and felt a hand on his chest, fingers splayed, thumb sliding over his skin, undisturbed by fabric, and Steve reveled in the simple touch.

Steve wrapped a fist around both their dicks, stroking slowly, leisurely, in no hurry this time, letting the heat of arousal burn on the back of his neck, seep through his veins, spread through his body.

"Mmm..."

"Tell me."

"Feels good, Stevie."

It didn't take much longer after that, and Steve barely had the sense about him to make sure Bucky finished first. Coming down had been hard fro Steve recently, and he expected no less this time.

He knows Bucky doesn't understand, but he knows Bucky tries. He knows his needs are selfish, and he should learn to control himself, even though the feelings are strong. It's just so hard.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers, because he can't help it. Bucky just wanted to look at his new body, touch him a little bit, and Steve had... It wasn't fair, demanding so much.

"No, none of that." Bucky waved him off, "I've never been so consistently satisfied in all my life. Most fellas would do anything for a sex life like ours."

"Bucky..."

"Just imagine if we were still in Brooklyn." He lets out a low whistle, "Damn."

Steve only chuckled, Bucky always knew how to make him feel better. "One day." He whispers.

"I'll be the one wearing you out, soldier," Bucky announced, leaning forward to tug on Steve's lower lip with his teeth, "All the time."

Steve touched his cheek, loving the warmth, the happiness that seemed to emanate from him. "You don't have to."

"Yeah, I know." Bucky shrugged, "But I'll bet a nickel you won't stop me from tryin'."

"Fair enough."


End file.
